They finally emerged into part of a shattered hall. There was just enough space to stand up if he stooped, and a great plane of stone descended at a sharp angle to bury itself in the floor. Narrow cracks descended into the depths, and Scorio saw nothing of particular interest with his darkvision.
“I don’t think this is it,” he said at last.
Xandera had placed both palms on the floor and had her eyes closed. “Shh.”
So Scorio crouched and waited.
“It’s tricky… in our spires, we have a sense of the walls, the life within it. The mana. They’re ours, and thus can’t hide from us. But here… the rock is old and stubborn. Strong rock. Granite. It doesn’t wish to speak, but I have authority, and my senses… trickle down… hmm.”
Scorio watched her. The darkness was lit by her ruddy glow. Her burning gaze was fixed on the broken floor. Seeing her like this, hair oozing across the floor like lava, he felt again that mute wonder to be in her presence. A fiend. But like Nox, completely different from anything he’d been taught at the Academy.
“Ah… now that’s interesting.” She frowned, cast around, then scampered to another spot. “Deep down. Very safe. A small series of rooms.”
“Can we get to them?”
“The original way is all broken up. But… if it’s important to you?” She looked askance at him.
“It is.”
She beamed. “Then of course we can! Just give me time. I’ll have to melt a path down. As well as make sure everything doesn’t collapse upon us. Hmm. Maybe a day or two?”
“Alright.” Scorio tried to suppress his hope. Most likely they were just a series of root cellars. “Shall I leave you to it?”
“Sure. I’ll be pretty focused. Come check on me every so often. I’ll let you know how it’s going.”
“Thank you, Queen Xandera.”
“Tssk.” She glared at him. “Just Xandera Sextus.”
“True royalty needs no throne.” He winked at her and wormed his way back out.
“Success?” asked Lianshi, who’d been seated on the cart.
“Possibly. She’s working her way down to some deeper rooms. Might take a day or two. She told me to come back later.”
“Then!” Lianshi stretched. “Let’s get you settled. Juniper will make me pay if I make her wait for too long after returning.”
Scorio grinned. “Then let’s get going.”
Lianshi found him a room in a battered house close to LastRock’s southern wall. The rest of the house was collapsed, but this chamber still sported some old furniture, enough that he could at least use the stone bed.
“I’ll send someone over with blankets, water, basic necessities,” said Lianshi. “Hmm. Let me show you how the city’s laid out. Just key points so you can orient yourself.”
And she drew a map on a dusty stone table, pointing out the main barracks, Moira’s hall, Juniper’s residence, the quartermaster’s depot, and a few other spots.
“Thanks,” said Scorio. “But I don’t think I’ll be exploring much.”
“Word will be spreading of your arrival. Just so you know. There are some folks who’ll probably want to talk to you. Want me to keep your location here secret?”
Scorio considered, then sighed and shook his head. “Hiding would only draw more attention to me. If anybody asks, I’ll let you decide if they’re worth pointing my way or fobbing off.”
“Sure thing.” Lianshi hesitated in the doorway. “How about we meet with Xandera tomorrow after breakfast?”
“Sounds good.”
Lianshi smiled, turned to go, then turned back when he called. “Lianshi? Thank you. I mean it. I… I don’t think you know how much your help has meant to me. It’s… yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course.” She beamed, shrugged, then bounced once on the balls of her feet. “It’s a big hell out there. We all need to stick together.”
Then she gave a little wave and left.
Scorio sighed and sat on the stone bed. He didn’t feel tired, but knew that he’d knock out the moment he lay down, even with just the dusty blankets and old sheets.
Still, he sat for a spell, thinking about nothing much, and it took some time for him to feel ready to rest. Time, he realized, to simply adapting to being here. In LastRock, Jova’s old redoubt. The broken fortress that no longer had any obvious purpose or enemies.
Finally he sighed, laid back, draped an arm over his eyes, and slept.
* * *
Lianshi had been right. Scorio wasn’t left alone for long. He awoke to the sound of conversation approaching, and sat up, palming one eye, as a number of folks stepped tentatively into his doorway.
He recognized them immediately. Taron was in the lead, with Nyrix, Fyrona, and Merideva right behind. Kelona was there, looking nervous, and Rharvyn at the rear with Penaela.
Scorio stood. “Wesanin? Himiko? The others?”
Taron stopped in the center of the room, the others unsure behind him. Only he wore the same customary smirk, that look of indolent amusement. “The Imperators did their best, I suppose, but not everybody made it.”
Merideva hopped up to sit on the window sill. “Though Himiko’s alive. She left LastRock shortly after we got here. Didn’t say where she was going.”
Kelona was hugging herself, still in the doorway. “Wesyd and Juna didn’t make it.”
Scorio inhaled deeply as that truth settled in his soul. Everybody watched as he made his peace with the deaths. Ursan. Galvon. Wesanin. For some reason, Juna and Wesyd hit him hardest of all.
“That’s life in hell,” said Taron. “You win some, you go back to the Archspire when you lose the rest. With a little luck they’ll still come back before Bastion crumbles to dust.”
“We’ve heard the wildest stories,” said Merideva, lightly drumming her heels against the wall. “Blazeborn queens and your killing Bravurn. That you drew the Blood Ox into the open just in time for the Imperators to drive him away and kill him.”
“All true, I guess.” Scorio sat down as a wave of weariness washed over him. He didn’t want to recount what had happened, but he also felt obligated to these people. Not his friends, precisely, but he’d fought with them. Almost died with them.
“I don’t understand.” Penaela’s brows were low over her gimlet eyes. “How did you not die when the Blood Ox killed everyone? Even the Blood Barons were slaughtered.”
“Luck, really.” So Scorio told them. Nothing fancy, no exciting descriptions. Just a bare bones recounting of the facts.
“Incredible,” said Merideva, her smile admiring. “The way you tell it, any of us could have done the same.”
“You could have,” said Scorio. “But for one thing.”
“Is this where we ask what that thing is?” Taron grinned. “We’re all ears.”
“You’re like all the other Great Souls I’ve met. You think of fiends as slaves or enemies and nothing more.”
“Oh,” said Taron, his smile slipping. “I thought you were going to comment on your good looks.”
“But we’re in hell,” said Fyrona carefully, as if testing the obvious nature of that statement. “And the fiends that live in hell are our foes. We’ve been fighting them for a millennia, just about.”
“Queen Xandera isn’t my enemy. I brought Xandera Sextus with me. You can meet her if you’re polite. Nox the Imperial Ghost Toad has been my truest friend so far. He’s a giant frog.”
“This is where I make a cynical remark about your needing to get out more,” said Taron.
“No.” Scorio’s tone grew harsh. “This is where I tell all of you to open your damned eyes and really look at the hell you live in. The fiends we fought on the Bone Plains—were they really our enemies, the Okozs, the Angraths, or were they commanded by the Blood Ox? Just as they were commanded before by Jova?”